


candy

by veryqueenly



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Other, highschool au??, just a lot of awkwardness + bad puns, kind of???, thats it, thats literally just it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-29 00:23:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8468707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veryqueenly/pseuds/veryqueenly
Summary: maybe with him around, your school days might not have to be so bad.
[707/Reader] [Highschool! AU]





	

**candy**

* * *

 

You wish it’s the first day of school today. Actually, you wish that it’s the first day of school every single day, because then you’d have at least of an excuse as to why—even after all those months—you haven’t made any friends yet.

To be honest, it’s not like anyone or everyone dislikes you. In fact, everyone seems to be nice toward you, smiling at you and greeting you whenever they pass you by the hallways. Some of them have even gone as far as to exchange a few words with you, talking to you about nonsensical things every now and then.

Sure, everyone’s nice and friendly toward you, and sometimes you think that some of them actually wants to become friends with you, but at this point, you’re pretty sure the problem isn’t them. It’s you.

Ever since you’re a child, you’ve already had a hard time making friends. It’s not because you have trust issues or anything of the sort, and it certainly isn’t because you’re an antisocial person. The truth is just that you’re really, really shy, and most of the time, you have no idea what to say to people.

Your mother, upon noticing your predicament, had tried to make things easier for you. She had enrolled you in different classes (vocal classes, dancing classes, ballet lessons, and probably more that you couldn’t remember) and enlisted you in different after school activities, hoping it would make you any less shy than you were. But alas, her efforts have been deemed a failure, and even now, a few years later, you’re still shy as hell and you still don’t have any idea how to approach people.

Ah, well. Life sucks for you, and you couldn’t do anything about it.

* * *

 

It’s a Thursday afternoon, and it’s a particularly hot day for you, and probably for the rest of the students at your school, too. The sun is up and about, sitting high up in the sky and shining brightly upon you. The clouds are moving slowly behind it, lazily traversing the skies.

It’s a particularly hot day, and even though you want nothing more than to be in the confines of your own home and curl up into your bed and relax, you couldn’t. You’re stuck here in your school, forced to spend a few more hours doing school works and the like. You’re currently here at the Chemistry laboratory, sitting in one of the empty chairs near the back. There’s a person sitting beside you, and despite the fact that he’s actually kind of popular in your school (due to his good looks and mad gaming skills) you still have yet to know his name and possibly exchange a few words with him.

You could notice that he keeps glancing at you every once in a while, though, whenever he thinks that you aren’t looking. And even though you keep telling yourself not to be bothered with it, you couldn’t help it. What’s wrong with you, anyway? Did he see some stain on your shirt? Did he see something stuck in your face?

A small frown slowly makes its way toward the corners of your lips. You aren’t sure why he keeps sneaking glances at you, but whatever the reason is behind it, you suppose that the best action for you is to just continue to ignore it. A soft sigh escapes you, and with the frown still intact on your face, you promptly turn your attention back to your teacher, who seems to be droning on and on about elements and whatnot.

You don’t notice how his gaze lingers on your form for a few seconds, before he, too, promptly turns his attention back to the teacher.

A few minutes later, your teacher is finally done with her lesson. She’s finally stopped talking about elements and other stuff, though she doesn’t seem to be finished with all of you. She’s standing in the middle of the room, with a thick stack of papers tucked under her arms. She claps her hands almost as if to grab your attentions, and when silence begins to envelope the room once more, she clears her throat. It takes her a moment to open her mouth to speak.

“Hi,” she begins, her voice loud and clear in the silence of the room. Her eyes begin to scan the room, seemingly looking at each and every one of the students. It takes her a moment to continue, and when she finally does, the words come out as loud and as clear as before. “Today, I’m going to give you a project.”

Her words are interrupted by the sound of collective groans coming from several students seated in the back. She waits for the sound to die down, glaring at the whole class in annoyance before she opens her mouth to continue. “It’s a group project, so there’s nothing you have to worry about.”

At her words, the students collectively cheer, though the sound is quieter, softer than before.

It takes her another few moments to continue her words, trying to wait for the students to finally calm down. As soon as silence begins to overtake the room once more, she opens her mouth and begins to speak. “I will group you into two, and you and your partner will be working on these activity sheets—“she pauses, raising a finger and pointing at the papers tucked under her arms as if for emphasis before opening her mouth to continue. “—that I’ve prepared for you.”

Her gaze scans the crowd once more, and there’s a few moments of silence surrounding all of you before she breaks it. “You’ll have to pass it by tomorrow afternoon. Is that clear?”

The students give a nod, almost as if to wordlessly say that they understood. The teacher nods her head in approval, and is about to open her mouth once more to speak when she’s interrupted by someone.

A girl who’s sitting a few seats in front of you raises her hand, trying to grab the teacher’s attention. When the teacher nods at her as if to signal her to start speaking, she does, lowering her hand and allowing it to rest on her side. “Do we get to choose our partner?” she asks and you could sense the tinge of hopefulness in her voice. It’s subtle, barely noticeable, but it’s still there, as though it were a spark of light amidst the darkness.

The teacher shakes her head as if in response. “Sadly, no,” she replies, and you think you could almost sense the disappointment in her voice. You silently wonder whether or not her sounding disappointed is simply just an act, but before you could even think it through, your teacher opens her mouth once more to continue.

When she opens her mouth to speak, the words come out more cheerful this time. “Don’t worry, though,” she says, and you could see that there’s a small smile making its way toward her lips. “I didn’t make the process of picking a partner that complicated. In fact, I made it quite easy for each and every single one of you.”

The students mutter a collective “huh” at her words, seemingly confused with what she’s saying. At this, a small chuckle escapes her lips, and she shakes her head, seemingly in amusement before continuing once more. “It’s just fairly easy,” she says, pausing to suck in a breath, “The one who sits beside you is going to be your partner for this project.”

You could hear some of the students cheering in excitement, could hear some of the students groaning in disappointment. Everyone’s reactions are mixed—some positive, some negative—but as for you, you could only sit there on your spot, frozen with your eyes wide in shock.

You couldn’t believe that you’re going to be partnered with one of the most popular boys in your school. You couldn’t believe you’re going to be partnered with a boy who had kept stealing glances at you, probably judging you for what you’re wearing or just judging you in general. And worst of all, you couldn’t believe you’re going to have to talk to him at some point.

(You couldn’t just accept the fact, even though it’s for the sake of your own grades.)

You fail to notice how the person beside you pumps his hands up in a silent cheer, a huge grin making its way toward his lips and threatening to split his face into two.

* * *

Once the commotion finally dies down and the silence begins to settle in once more, the teacher begins to move around the classroom, handing out papers to students. When she’s finished handing out every last one of them, she begins to head back toward the middle of the classroom, clapping her hands together as if to grab your attentions once more.

“Now,” she begins, her voice sounding firm and loud in the silence of the room. “You may begin talking to your partner about the project,” she says, pausing briefly to allow her gaze to wander around the rest of the room. It takes her a moment to continue, and when the words finally spill out of her lips, they come out as firm and as loud as her words before. “You can do anything and everything at this point,” she says. “Just make sure you finish whatever I gave you, okay?”

Some of the students nod their head and some of them open their mouth to reply a simple affirmative. The teacher, satisfied with the response, begins to walk back to where the table is placed, taking a seat in the plastic chair behind it. She grabs a stack of paper from her desk and begins to do her work, leaving you and the rest of the students to start on your project.

* * *

 

 

While most of the students are quick to begin to start on their works, you, however, are not. You remain rooted to your seat, continuing to stare straight ahead. You refuse to turn around and look at your partner, refuse to turn around to acknowledge him. You know that you have to talk to him at some point today, but for now, you’re going to have to keep your mouth shut and not say anything just yet, in case you embarrass yourself in front of him, in case you suddenly blurt out the wrong thing and end up regretting saying anything in the first place.

It’s not like you’re ignoring him just because you want to, and it’s not like you’re ignoring him without any valid reason. Truth be told, you just don’t know what to say to him. Even with the two of you already paired up in a project together, you honestly still have no idea how to approach him.

Do you just suddenly turn around and ask him what you’re going to do for your project? Or do you tell him your name first and introduce yourself for a bit before diving into the topic? You have no idea what you’re going to do, and you honestly have no idea how to handle this situation.

You silently wish that the ground would just swallow you whole, if it meant you’d be saved from this cluelessness of yours. You silently wish that the class would suddenly end if it meant you’d be saved from your own embarrassment. You think that everything would be better than this, think that anything would be better than you simply just sitting here, waiting for your downfall—

The boy beside you clears his throat and the sound of it immediately snaps you out of your thoughts. You quickly turn around to face him, your eyes wide with surprise. You’re about to open your mouth, about to ask him whatever it is he wants from you, but before you could even do so, he opens his mouth and starts talking, effectively cutting you off from the words you’re about to say, from the words you’re about to utter.

“What did the scientist say when he found two isotopes of helium?” he asks, his voice soft, quiet, so that only you could hear him. You could detect the seriousness in his voice, could detect the sobriety in his tone. He’s looking at you, staring at you with an intensity you aren’t used to seeing. You’re almost certain that you’re going to shrink under his gaze, almost certain that you’re going to cower under his stare.

But then he repeats his question once more, snapping you out of your thoughts for the second time. You furrow your eyebrows, giving him a look of confusion before opening your mouth to ask, “What?”

You could see that the corners of his lips begin to twitch into a small smile. It takes him a moment to reply, and when he does, you could tell that he’s trying not to laugh at his own words. “HeHe,” he says.

He’s resorted into watching you, gauging the expressions on your face and waiting for any kind of reaction from you.

For a moment, you’re silent, unable to say anything to him just yet. You blink up at him, once, twice, thrice, trying to process his words in your mind. And then all of a sudden, you’re laughing, and it’s not just any kind of simple laugh.

You’re laughing, and it’s the kind of laugh that is reserved when you’re around people you’re most comfortable with. It’s the kind of laugh that sounds obnoxious, all screeching and hands hitting the table in front of you. It’s the kind of laugh that sounds embarrassing; it’s the kind of laugh that you never really want anyone (except for a few people) to hear.

And then all of a sudden the moment is over, and the laughter in your throat finally begins to die down. You’re panting, gasping, trying to catch your breath before opening your mouth to speak. “I’m so sorry,” you say after a moment, once you’ve finally recovered from your earlier embarrassment. You utter the words sheepishly, embarrassingly, and you’re certain that your own shame drips into every single word that you utter.

You’re certain that you look like a mess now, certain that you look embarrassing. You tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear before continuing, in that same sheepish voice that you’ve used in uttering your words just a while ago. “That was embarrassing.”

The boy beside you shakes his head, and you could see the beginnings of a smile forming at the corners of his lips. “It’s okay,” he says, and his tone is soft and warm that you could feel your heartbeat beginning to race. “I like the sound of your laugh, anyway.”

He pauses and you’re almost certain that his smile is widening just a fraction more before he opens his mouth to add, “It’s cute and adorable.”

Your eyes widen in surprise at his words, and you could feel your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. You try to open your mouth to say something, anything in response to him, but you only end up stuttering over your already nonsensical words.

A chuckle escapes his lips, and you give him a curious look, silently asking him to explain whatever it is that is on his mind, whatever it was that he had been chuckling about. He merely shakes his head and smiles at you before extending a hand out for you to shake. “My name’s Saeyoung,” he says, his voice still carrying the same warmth from before. “Saeyoung Choi.”

You could feel the butterflies beginning to flutter in your stomach and you try to ignore them as you reach out to shake his hand, whispering your name softly so that only he could hear.

“Nice to meet you,” he whispers, his voice just as soft. You don’t fail to notice the way his eyes sparkle as he utters the words, don’t fail to notice how his smile seems to widen a bit as he continues to stare at you.

“Nice to meet you, too,” you say, whispering the words just as softly as he did. You give him a small smile as you utter the words, giving his hand a firm squeeze as you do so.

* * *

 

               

**Author's Note:**

> hi! thank you for reading all that;; 
> 
> please leave your comments or suggestions below and let me know if there's a part you enjoyed. thank you!


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